


The Trelawny Method of Applied Dog Behavior and Obedience

by radicalskeletal



Series: The Hound and the Magpie [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Financial Domination, M/M, Praise Kink, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicalskeletal/pseuds/radicalskeletal
Summary: “Sweetest you, sweetest of all the monsters in the world, I love you to distraction.”--There are three commands that Josiah will teach Arthur.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Josiah Trelawny
Series: The Hound and the Magpie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709851
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	1. Sit

Arthur wasn't dead in the morning. More's the pity, he wasn't much better, either.

He hadn't stayed in Josiah's tent last night, but he had taken Josiah's whiskey with him to his own. He might have made a drunk halfwit of himself last night, but at least Josiah hadn't been there to see the worst of it. Mercifully, no one but the bottle had witnessed Arthur's brokenhearted bellyaching.

It was Josiah's last morning in camp. In a matter of hours, Josiah would be on a ship to California and Arthur would have to watch him go.

_I won't even give you time to miss me,_ Josiah had said. _I'll be back before the Kolbeck job for some honest thievery, but first I have a bit of business to see to out West._

And quietly, later, after Josiah's mouth against Arthur's had appropriately softened the blow, _I know it sounds like a bore to a hot-blooded crook like yourself, but I will be at your service again after this tedious California business is behind me. You might even find some amusement if you were at my side, you know. Imagine the hunting. Won't you consider it?_

Arthur didn't consider it, just as he hadn't considered St. Louis or New York when Josiah had packed for those trips. Arthur wasn't sure if it was Josiah's quick tongue or his influence that afforded him special treatment with Dutch, but Arthur was sure that whatever it was, Josiah hadn't left any to spare. Arthur didn't have to ask to know that Dutch wasn't about to let him go anywhere. His hunting trips were one thing, but boarding a ship for California was quite another.

Coffee didn't do much for his pounding head, so Arthur smoked and kept his hat pulled low while he saddled the horses. Strictly speaking, Arthur hadn't told Josiah that he would ride with him to the station, but he'd be damned if he didn't see him off.

Josiah wasn't the sort to raise his voice. He was more than capable of making his displeasure known—he could break lesser men simply hiking up an eyebrow or an unimpressed moue.

Last night had been the closest Josiah had ever been to forgetting himself and _snarling_.

And then, with trembling hands through clenched teeth, _Don't think me angry, but if you will please leave me tonight, my gratitude will double._

_Magpie_ , Arthur had said, and then nothing else, because that tent was the safest place he had ever been ripped apart.

_As you are a gentleman, get out._

Josiah's tells were subtle, but Arthur could read him like the Sunday edition, so he had done just that.

Arthur had never told Josiah that he loved him, but he did. He loved Josiah for his protection and his care. A warm hand at the small of his back after a long ride. A slow kiss that tasted like salt and wine. Most of all, Arthur loved Josiah for loving him back.

Tenderness came easy for Josiah, in every medium afforded to him. He was a listening ear when Arthur needed, even if he wasn't much of a talker. More often, he charmed Arthur with his shameless flirtation. _Arthur, do get my coat, there's a dear._

_Can you be tempted to dinner in town, darling?_

_I love you, my boy._

Josiah kept him safe in every way that mattered. Josiah wasn't much of a gun at his side, but that wasn't what Arthur needed—Josiah protected Arthur when he was broken and kneeling. Josiah shielded him from everything inside Arthur's head, and Arthur shielded Josiah from everything outside it. _Arthur Morgan, as I live and breathe. I do not deserve this._

_So good for me, so good, oh oh—_

God had given Josiah the power to express how he felt, and last night had been the first time that Arthur had felt colder and stupider for it.

Arthur fed Gwydion an oat cake with a friendly clap on the shoulder. If Trelawny had the appetite of a bird, his horse more than made up for it. “I'll getcha back here by lunch,” he mumbled, tousling his mane. “I'll look after ya while he's gone, yessir. Won't get no trouble from me.”

“Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me, Mr. Morgan?”

Arthur started. “Christ, Jos—Mr. Trelawny.”

Josiah was in a blue linen traveling suit with two brown canvas bags at his shining Derby boots. “Ready to push off, then? I'm afraid I've rather taken my time this morning and we don't have a moment to lose.”

Arthur sprung forward to grab Josiah's bags. “We'll cut through the plains easy enough. Don't you worry, you won't miss your boat.”

Josiah smiled as Arthur fussed the bags to hang over Bo's saddle horn. “Good man,” he said, and swung into the saddle.

There was a tick of tension at Josiah's brow that begged for the sweep of Arthur's thumb. As their horses raced for the port, Arthur caught the barest hint of Josiah's scent before the wind whipped it away, and some animal inside Arthur gnashed its teeth.

Words lived and died on Arthur's tongue, none of them strong enough to speak to break through the ice.

How long would it be until he saw Josiah again?

Only a week ago, Arthur had fallen asleep with his fingers on the inside of Josiah's wrist as Josiah had fallen asleep with Arthur's twin heartbeat hammering underneath his hand, sleepily curled against Arthur's neck.

Arthur, in a moment of bitterness, realized he needed to wake up again that same day and do something different. Get out of his cot a little later, or earlier, had porridge instead of coffee, turned left when he turned right. The disregard between Josiah and he was as unwelcome as it was unfamiliar.

When Josiah dismounted in Blackwater, hidden away from the crowd in an alley close to the gunsmith's, Josiah patted Gwydion's neck and bid him farewell, pleading for him to behave and not get too fat. Arthur hovered grimly, Josiah's bags in his fists.

Josiah spun after his goodbyes and wrapped on hand over Arthur's wrist. Even after months, something warm swooped in Arthur's stomach at the feel of his cool fingertips.

“I'll come back to you,” Josiah said.

Arthur rested his mouth into the crown of Josiah's head. _God knows I'm sorry, God knows why I can't say it._

Josiah's lips pressed and squirmed in the way they did when he was thinking much too quick, too big. With a last searching look and a sharp nod, he pulled back towards the dock.

Arthur caught his linen sleeve pulled him bodily around the side of the depot.

“If you do not unhand me, Arthur Morgan, I will miss my boat,” Josiah snapped.

“I'm Dutch's right hand man, I'm as good as his _son_ , I can't just up and leave,” Arthur hissed.

“If it was nothing but a lark, if you want to be free,” Josiah said in a voice like stone to Arthur's chin, “then that's what I want for you.”

“It ain't like that!” Arthur gritted, and swung his head, searching for onlookers. “Josiah, you said I was yours, and you was _right_. I—”

“Obviously not.” Josiah pulled back, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his hat. His mouth was pinched in an ugly curl.

“I'd choose you, every damn time. Never had a choice, not really. It ain't like that, Josiah. They're family, but I...I love you.”

Josiah flinched. “Arthur, why—”

Arthur jerked him up by his lapels, crushing Josiah's shocked mouth under his. Josiah staggered, but Arthur caught him bodily by the waist and dragged him close enough to smother his moan.

Josiah growled and squirmed until Arthur released him for a breath. “How dare you say such things to me _when I must leave you_?”

Arthur yanked him close to slide his tongue next to Josiah's until the boat gave a sharp whistle. “Get on that boat,” he begged. “Or we'll both spend the night in a cell for somethin' obscene and public.”

Josiah beamed.

Arthur groaned and tucked his head under Josiah's chin to scent him. “If you _don't_ get on that boat, I will regret having to kill the man that tries to pull me off ya. I'm yours. I'll be here when you get back.”

They walked to the boat, shoulder to shoulder, Josiah's bags in Arthur's hands. Arthur's heart felt too great and golden to be his own. He passed Josiah his bags at the last moment with a long look.

“I love you,” he said again, too loud for a Blackwater afternoon.

Josiah smiled, and it was shockingly uncomplicated in its affection. “I am but yours, dear boy. I'll write,” he promised, and trotted aboard as the engine gave an almighty heave.


	2. Stay

Arthur liked getting Josiah what he wanted. Everything he wanted, in truth. Even things Josiah wouldn't ask for.

Arthur had learned, however, that Josiah was determined to give Arthur as good as he got. Moreover, there was nothing he hated more than being predictable.

“Don't you know it's bad for a man's reputation to drink alone?” asked an all too familiar voice one day when Arthur was spending his fresh earnings at a saloon.

Arthur started, but he hoped he checked the naked hope and anger in his face when he spun to see Josiah, eyes twinkling and hat in his hand.

“Mr. Trelawny,” Arthur breathed.

_I missed you._

“Mind if I join you? You can't imagine how thirsty I am for some good Blackwater stout again, dear boy. Nevermind how I disparage it whenever I can get it. Heart, fondness, all that rubbish.”

_I missed you like air in my lungs._

“Please, Mr Trelawny. Did you have a pleasant trip?”

_I missed you like blood in my veins._

“Pleasant? No, I fear not. But profitable? Certainly. I always find ways to keep myself busy.”

_'Miss' is not strong enough a word._

Arthur wanted to punch him. Five letters he'd gotten since he left for California, and not one hint of word of his return. “You gettin' back just now?”

_Don't go far from me again, because I fear you've become something essential. Necessary. Something I can't be parted from._

Josiah gestured to his luggage, resting by his feet. “Just come from the train station, my boy! I thought I would throw myself on your tender mercies and beg for a drink, but I see you have beaten me to the bottle.”

Arthur's throat clicked as he swallowed. “How did you find me?”

“Let's call it a lucky guess, yes? This is you favorite bar, I haven't forgotten that much.”

“If that's what you call a lucky guess, we should head right to the card tables.”

Josiah smiled fondly. “Mr. Morgan. I keep close tabs on business, yes? Without a doubt, my tabs on my friends are always closer. I can always find a friend when I need one, you see.”

If Arthur pitched his head down, he could have caught a whiff of Josiah's cologne. If he watched Josiah's mouth, he could almost remember the way it tasted.

He was in range of Josiah for the first time in almost a month, and they were sitting at a bar when Arthur could have been _touching_ him.

“You should have told me you were coming,” Arthur growled.

“Arthur,” Josiah said gently, “I tried. I only beat my letter here.”

A hand at Arthur's elbow. “You see,” Josiah murmured, eyes down, almost shyly, “I go a little mad when you are parted from me.”

“Not here,” Arthur whispered.

“It is very good, then, that I will rent a room here for the night. Perhaps two nights?”

“Two.”

“Two,” Josiah promised, and Arthur swept up his bags as Josiah flagged the bartender with a flutter of his hand.

While Josiah washed in the basin in the corner of his room, Arthur busied himself unpacking for Josiah. For the first time in weeks, he was able to quiet his mind the way he could only when he was in Josiah's orbit. Josiah liked his shirts laid so. Josiah liked his coat hung thus. Arthur's racing thoughts slowed into a docile trickle.

Josiah chattered like a songbird about a play he was going to take Arthur to in four hours' time. Arthur grouched at that. He had been hoping to tuck Josiah away in the room until dawn at least. Josiah busied himself with tea at the sideboard, and Arthur shut his eyes for the span of a breath just to listen to him again.

Josiah's hand clasped Arthur's wrist gently when his bags were empty. “My heart, did you miss me?” He raised Arthur's hand by his wrist to kiss his knuckles.

“Too much,” Arthur admitted.

Josiah smirked, and Arthur drank it in. “Come, dear boy, welcome me home.” Josiah fell tiredly into a chair by the window and Arthur followed and unbidden fell to his knees by Josiah's feet.

Arthur felt transparent. All the teeming world fell silent to his ears. His thoughts were too scattered. If he tried to hold them, he would have clutched at smoke. They were too fleeting to keep track of, spinning too fast in his periphery. He couldn't focus, not even on the hush of the sheets or the sunlight on the floor. His thoughts drifted, and he found that he couldn't even focus on what he was waiting for at all, or why, except that Josiah had asked it of him.

Josiah, it seemed, was the only thing he could think of. His thoughts kept winding back to Josiah, like he was at the end of some untenable string. Josiah and his square, unexpectedly honest hands. Josiah and his flint chip eyes.

Only Josiah, and the wish that Josiah would touch him.

Arthur felt safe at Josiah's feet. If Josiah was here, he didn't have to say the wrong thing or make the wrong choice. Josiah would never let harm come to him.

“So I beat my letter here? I thought I might. Shall I quote you its contents or shall I invent fresh turns of phrase for your ears?” Josiah reclined in his chair just enough to pet the hair at Arthur's nape.

Arthur tipped his head obligingly. “Up to you,” he grunted.

Josiah beamed. He set down his teacup to hold Arthur's face in his hands. “Paraphrased, you understand. I was in such a rush to leave that some of it escapes me.”

“I'll live,” Arthur breathed. He felt golden, light as a feather, buoyed by endless joy.

“Oh, where to begin? I do forget if I started the whole thing with 'Dear Arthur' or 'Dearest Distant Beast.' It may have been 'Dear American Crook.'”

Arthur's shoulders shook with laughter. “I remember that from one of your letters months ago. Ya runnin' out of material?”

“Perish the thought, for my muse is the most agreeable malcontent—” a kiss, quick as silver, fast enough that Arthur couldn't give chase “—to ever live. I'll have inspiration for many years of wooing him to come. He shall be so lousy with praises that I daresay even _his_ modesty may stand a fighting chance.”

“Magpie,” Arthur prayed.

“Yes, dearest? Right! The letter. So after your salutations, I thought I would inquire about little Jack and Tilly.”

“Both of your urchins are fine,” Arthur promised. “Jack's been practicing the tricks you showed him.”

Josiah's nails scraped through Arthur's scalp. “Poor Abigail. Next, I inquired after Hosea's health.”

“The same.”

“I see. Ah, my memory is becoming clearer. I seem to recall missing you so greatly that I was unable to help myself. 'Please do not forget that I know your heart so well that no distance can alter my attachment. You inspire in me such perfect love and gratitude that neither time nor absence can impair.'”

Arthur hid his face in Josiah's knee, overwhelmed. He missed Josiah. Josiah was _right there_ , his warmth on Arthur's cheek, and he missed him desperately.

“'Enclosed you'll find a blossom of California checkerbloom I pressed in a book the last time I visited my cottage here. Finding it undisturbed, preserved long before you and I began our acquaintance, reminded me how you've bettered my days and how dearly I miss you, my dearest heart.'”

Arthur's breath hitched. “Magpie, can I—” He choked off, not sure what he wanted, only that he was flayed him open to the bone.

Mercifully, Josiah opened his arms and Arthur scrambled up. He knelt over Josiah, on knee up on the arm of the chair, crouched like a gargoyle. He wanted to cover Josiah completely, always, spare him for his eyes only. Josiah's arms settled over Arthur's neck.

“'Sweetest you, sweetest of all the monsters in the world, I love you to distraction.'”

Arthur barked a weak laugh and knelt down to stop Josiah's mouth with a hard kiss. Josiah's mouth was stretched in a smile, but kissed Arthur back indulgently, slowing him down until Arthur's breath steadied.

_Mine_. Arthur's hands gripped the back of the chair hard enough that the wood creaked. _This ridiculous man is only mine._

Josiah's hands slid down his front, heavy and purposeful, until they settled on his thighs, thumbs kneading over his trousers. Arthur hummed.

Josiah quirked a brow at him. “Are you already so tired of my letters already, dear boy? Your attention span is shameful. I feel quite used!”

“I could stand to be used,” Arthur said with a meaningful roll of his hips. “Please. Sir.”

“Consider me thoroughly swayed. Diverted. If you have any love for me in your heart at all, you will cease crowding me like a lech and get on the bed.”

Later, when Arthur was bruised and profoundly reminded just how much Josiah had missed him, Josiah rumbled when Arthur pet a hand down his hip. He was quiet now, curled up under Athur's chin. He might have been asleep if he didn't keep nosing up to scent Arthur's neck.

Arthur's fingers tapped a knotted scar on his side. “What was this?” Josiah didn't have as many scars as him. Arthur hated every one.

Josiah twitched. “Street magician in Galveston and I came to blows over the matter of a lady's favor nigh ten years ago.”

Arthur smirked. Josiah would invent a new source for any of his scars when Arthur asked. Not two months ago, the same scar had involved a lion tamer and a lost princess.

“Slicker than bat shit,” Arthur grumbled. Josiah canted his head back to wink up at him.

Arthur wondered if Josiah would ever feel as safe with Arthur as Arthur felt with him. He talked big and walked tall, but so much of him was hidden behind a careful puzzle. Arthur felt privileged to know him better than likely anyone alive, but he wished Josiah didn't feel so obviously put upon to maintain his exciting airs. He wondered if Josiah knew that Arthur didn't care if he picked his teeth or fell on his ass, because Arthur was _ruined_ for Josiah, ruined for life.

It would have to be enough for now, Arthur thought, to be the most trusted man Josiah knew.

\--

They had a little game. Like most of their games, Josiah never seemed to lose.

So when he half-turned to Arthur in his private box not an hour into the play and leaned close to whisper in Arthur's ear, Arthur's breath caught in his chest. Because he knew this game, and he knew where this was going.

“My dear boy, how do I have my tea?”

Arthur's eyes flicked over Josiah's face. His eyes were trained on the stage ahead, but they were unfocused. Waiting on Arthur to pick up his dropped handkerchief.

Arthur wondered why they'd left the room at all. When he'd seen Josiah, eyes glittering and smile cocked, he'd had _plans_.

He should've figured. Nothing made Josiah as happy as Josiah being difficult.

Arthur ducked his head close to Josiah's and intoned, “You take milk with black tea. Ya take lemon instead if I can steal it for you.”

Josiah, Arthur's learned, would stand for nothing less than thorough.

Josiah's mouth ticked. Amused. With a hush of fabric, he unknotted his cravat and slid it out of his shirt. Arthur eyed the line of his neck. He willed his lungs to breathe and his heart to beat.

Josiah draped the silk over Arthur's knee thoughtlessly. He met Arthur's eyes once, quick as a snap, before they were back on the stage.

“Darling, where did we meet?”

They'd never played this game in public. Arthur wondered where the line was, and watched helplessly as Josiah licked his lips.

Whisper soft, “On a job in Fort Churchill, 'bout twenty years back. You got us in, made thieves of us.” Arthur chewed his lip and added, “You barely looked at me.”

“You were not then what you are now, were you, Arthur Morgan?” Despite the twilight of the theater, his eyes gleamed and swept Arthur's heart away. “One doesn't wear a stone half cut, and I wouldn't love a boy half grown.”

He unthreaded his pocket watch and left it on the velvet of the box's high banister with a chime of silver.

Another question, and another, and soon Josiah's jacket and waistcoat were draped over the back of his chair, his feet bare next to his shoes and sock garters.

Arthur felt untethered, like someone had pulled his stakes out of the ground to let him drift loose. He loomed over Josiah's seat like a starved, drooling animal.

Josiah slid a fingernail over his suspender at the shoulder. “One last question I think.”

“Hmm?” Arthur's mouth was too dry for words, too dry for anything but panting over Josiah like a dog.

“Come with me, next time?”

When Arthur didn't answer, Josiah swung the curtain around his box shut, muffling the light and sound from the stage below. Just as he perched himself on Arthur's knee, Arthur's hands bolted to Josiah's waist. Hard enough to bruise, if he was lucky.

“Arthur. Come with me, please. When you are far from me I get so low. Please, next time, come with me?”

Sometimes, their eyes met over the camp fire and knew the gang couldn't hold forever. Sometimes Josiah admitted that he would have never returned if it weren't for Arthur, the ghost of Micah Bell enough to keep him running. Sometimes Arthur feared that if he let Josiah take him away, he wouldn't ever return.

“I'll think on it. I promise I will.”


	3. Heel

When Arthur returned to the villa, the stars only just started to suggest themselves in the purpling sky. He had a string of prairie chickens in hand, a buck over the back of his horse, and something like a smile.

Josiah clucked at the splash of blood on his shirt sleeves. With a promise that he'd have the cook see to the butchery, he banished Arthur to the washroom.

“I wonder that I don't let you in the servant's entrance,” he sniffed.

“Because you can't stand to be a man who sleeps with the help,” Arthur leered.

Unexpectedly, Josiah laughed and ducked under his chin to lip at the sweaty dip of his throat. Arthur shivered, filled with something tingly and suffocating.

Josiah's bath was unlike any other he'd ever tried, so he obediently stripped and sank into the bubbles. He slumped against the porcelain and watched the stars flicker through the white drapes.

Arthur stayed long enough that Josiah came to find him when the cook went to bed. He perched on the edge of the bath. He was only in his trousers and shirt. Practically indecent, by his standards. Arthur hunched over himself uncertainly until Josiah cupped a hand around his chin and pulled his head close to rest on his thigh.

“The sun gave you a walloping today,” Josiah said as he traced new freckles on Arthur's pink shoulders. “Quite fetching, love.”

_Love? Is that who I am now?_ Arthur wondered, and settled his cheek on Josiah's leg. _That wasn't my name until you came along._

Good lord, there were probably stars in his eyes. At least he wouldn't have to hide them anymore. Josiah liked to see them.

“I tracked a wolf halfway to Torquemada until I lost the trail. Great beast.” Arthur allowed his eyes to slip closed as Josiah knit his fingers in the hair at his nape. “Was thinkin' of some new gloves fer ya.”

Josiah hummed happily and pulled Arthur's hand up to nuzzle into his wet palm. “There's a great many silly things I've done, but maybe the silliest was to think that taking you here would finally house train you.”

Arthur smirked sleepily. “I don't know if all the villas in the world would be enough to domesticate me, magpie.”

“Good.” Josiah's teeth scraped Arthur's knuckles as he kissed them.

Arthur pulled him down with a hopeful noise for good and proper kiss. He meant it to be soft, but Josiah turned it into something determined to drive Arthur to distraction.

Arthur swallowed. “Bed?” he begged.

“Soon,” Josiah promised.

Arthur pawed at Josiah's shoulders and was unable to hide the needy sound growling out of his throat. Josiah always tasted so goddamn sweet, rich as anything. Arthur could have drooled like a dog for it.

“I almost can't believe you're here, dear boy,” Josiah breathed. Arthur squeezed one of Josiah's hands in both of his, and Josiah looked at him like he couldn't have looked anywhere else.

Arthur realized, with no uncertainty, that there was no world where he would ever be able to say no to Josiah. Josiah looked at him like he didn't have a care in the world, like he could count on Arthur for anything. To Arthur it felt like something hollow boned, delicate, but Josiah had a way of smiling like it was the only solid thing for miles, something he could lean on whenever he needed to. Arthur wanted to be that solid thing for him, to know that he did right by at least one person in his bloodthirsty life.

Arthur cleared his suddenly tight throat. “Josiah, for God's sake, will you take me to bed?”

“Yes, dear boy.”

In the breathless walk between the washroom and the bedroom, water drizzled off Arthur despite the thick, heavy towel around his waist, and Josiah's eyes glinted like a spring-loaded trap. The light slanted from the washroom to the shaded doorway of the bedroom, banking down on the foot of the bed.

In the space of a heartbeat, Arthur was crowding Josiah back into the bed and nuzzling into a wolfish, barely human kind of kiss. The smell of Arthur in his bed from the night before and the night before that gusted up from the sheets and Josiah melted like chocolate under Arthur's mouth.

Arthur batted at Josiah's shirt until he cleared a path from his throat to his fly. He groaned and lapped urgent, broad swaths over Josiah's chest. Josiah hissed, muscles tight and fluttering.

“You're shaking, boy,” Josiah sighed as Arthur swept his tongue below his navel.

“You've undone me, magpie.” Arthur's voice was little more than a hoarse snag.

Josiah grabbed Arthur by the nape and swung him to the side with a grunt. Arthur looked a mess already—he gulped for air and his eyes were the dangerous kind of dark. Josiah crowded him back to the pillows, bending Arthur's knees back in a lewd spread.

“Do you even know what it's like having you here?” Josiah hissed, shivering over Arthur. “I wanted you for so bloody long, Morgan. How am I supposed to let you go? I don't think I could cope, dear boy.”

Arthur arched up like a plant toward the sun. “I'm here, magpie.”

Josiah didn't look any less tormented for it. He ducked his head and nipped Arthur's mouth open, hands skating over his scarred, bath warm skin. He bowed low and ravaged his teeth over Arthur's neck, his shoulder, his thundering pulse.

Arthur's legs shook like a broken pony's. “Yours,” he promised.

Arthur wasn't sure if that was the wrong thing to say or exactly, precisely, the only _right_ thing to say, because Josiah looked gutted. He keened low, louder than Arthur had ever heard from him, and thrust hard against Arthur's thighs.

Arthur's arms came up to brace Josiah's elbows, thumbs soothing over the fluttering muscles. He hushed Josiah gently, but Josiah was not to be deflected. His hips rutted hard into Arthur, punching out a moan.

“Josiah, shit, _fuck_ , will you just—”

“ _No_ ,” his magpie growled. His shoulders were trembling with some firestorm of emotion that was eating him up, burning him out.

Arthur wound his legs tight around Josiah's waist and pulled him up and _in_ until their teeth clacked together. Josiah grunted and pushed, but he was caught tight, snared fast, and Arthur leaned up with a pleading sound until Josiah gentled for a kiss. There was the sweetness, because Arthur knew that Josiah could talk himself blue in the face about how much he adored Arthur, but he'd mean every embarrassing word.

Arthur licked into his mouth and shared his breath with Josiah until his trembling softened and his shoulders unbent. He nuzzled into Josiah's mouth with a sigh. “The flesh is willin',” Arthur whispered, “but I wonder if you'll let me take care of ya tonight.”

Josiah was a man with, if nothing else, a plan. But he could be swayed, if Arthur only asked pretty enough, if he could tell Josiah what he needed to be cared for.

Arthur had killed for Josiah. He could only imagine what this man, this miracle in his bed, would do for him.

With a jerk of his chin, Josiah allowed himself to be borne back into the bed. Arthur caged him in with his arms and basked in the power of compelling this man to do anything. In Arthur's estimation, very few things in the world could have been as difficult or as worthwhile as taming Josiah Trelawny.

“There now,” Arthur rumbled, and leaned down to kiss the downward slash of Josiah's mouth. “Thank ya, sir.”

Josiah flinched and groaned, lip in his teeth.

Arthur's hands shook as he petted down Josiah's sides.

“What do you need?”

Arthur kissed down Josiah's belly and Josiah's hips rolled up to meet him. Even pacified, Josiah was a demanding son of a bitch.

Josiah's frown melted as Arthur's hand cupped his chin, thumbed over his lips until they parted, panting as Arthur sucked a bruise to bloom on Josiah's hip, then again on his thigh—sharper, now, teeth catching.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Josiah said, like he hadn't even meant to, like Arthur had pulled the name out of him, the only name that he could remember. He curled his tongue over Arthur's thumb with a curious, wanting moan.

Arthur's hot breath fanned over Josiah's dick, and Arthur hummed as a pearl of precum blurted from the tip.

Helplessly, Josiah thrashed when Arthur's tongue laved over the head of his cock. He bared his teeth—not a magpie anymore, a fucking wolf—eyes clenched closed.

“What is it you want, Josiah?” Arthur rasped his tongue from base to tip.

Josiah whined, hips bucking. “You bloody _cur_. I will be _owed_ for this.”

“I gotcha, I know— _darlin'_ shitfire, tell me whatcha need.”

Josiah squirmed again, and Arthur was spellbound, breathless with the impossible joy of Josiah allowing him to have his way, just this once.

“What's it gonna be, sir? Ya want a pretty new saddlehorse? I could steal ya a nice sailboat. Would that please ya, sir?”

Josiah sobbed, eyes coal dark when he stared down at Arthur as he slicked his hand over Josiah's cock, trapped against his belly.

“I can't, o-oh, I can't bloody well think when my cock is being baited, boy.”

Arthur sucked the head of his cock in deep and held until drool trickled down his chin and Josiah gasped for air.

His voice was wet, garbled with the honey and saltwater taste of Josiah's precum. “I reckon ya need something _bigger_. My king needs a crown, magpie. I'll take one fer you and bring it to you if that'll please you.” Arthur plunged his mouth down Josiah's dick again, sloppy, like the only reason he'd been given a throat was so Josiah could fuck it.

Josiah _howled_ , body arching back, taut as piano wire. His hands shot to Arthur's hair, hands snarling tight. Arthur groaned happily. Blood surged in his ears and his face burned as Josiah used his throat.

“Look at me, Arthur.”

Arthur peeked up, eyes red and streaming, throat raw as Josiah snapped his hips up to Arthur's face.

One of Josiah's fingertips dashed a tear away from his cheek and soothed down his face tenderly. Arthur gagged and his hips snapped down against the mattress. He winked up at Josiah, who huffed a weak laugh.

“I love you, my darling. My dear boy, I _love_ you.”

Arthur choked and slavered, and it seemed those words were all it took, because any power that Arthur had ever had to not be owned by this man was gone, crumbled and smoking in the wind. Arthur was owned, and safe, and he didn't have to wonder that he would kill for the privilege of breaking himself for Josiah if that's what Josiah wanted—Josiah would fix him, always, and there wasn't anything Arthur was more sure of in this world.

Josiah fucked into the wet clutch of Arthur's throat. “So fine for me, my dearest boy, so good. I'm so proud of you.”

A shiver wracked Arthur and his hips hitched into the sheets. _Yours. Keep me._

He wrapped his arms under Josiah's ass to hold his cock deep inside. He swallowed desperately and Josiah made a gutteral, savage sound. Tears and spit leaked down Arthur's face, anything that wasn't Josiah _inside_ of him an unimportant blur. Arthur wasn't sure what kind of wounded sound he made, but it made Josiah whisper, “Yes, yes, my boy,” and stroke his thumb around Arthur's stretched, wrecked mouth. Arthur's keen died in his throat, stifled on cock.

Josiah clawed at the sheets with a cry and Arthur gave a full body clench, hips hunched down.

Josiah was panting, breath ripping in the way it did only just before he came. Arthur's mouth slicked loudly, wet and obscene.

Josiah's voice was broken, almost too quiet. “I'm y-yours entirely, dear.” When Arthur slid his tongue down the underside of his his cock, Josiah's body seized, spurting on Arthur's tongue with a shuddering breath.

Josiah sagged back on the bed, strings cut and legs trembling. Arthur crawled up and crowded into his space. Mindless words rumbled out of Arthur until Josiah boosted himself on one elbow to lick into Arthur's mouth.

“I fear I'm at a loss for words, my dear boy,” Josiah murmured.

“Never thought I'd see the day.” Arthur grinned crookedly as Josiah grumbled and flung himself back on the sheets.

“You spoil me. I shall become an indolent slug if you continue to treat me so, and then where will we be? I will be sorry if I'm unable to keep up with my gunslinger.”

“Then I'll come back for you,” Arthur promised.

Josiah's throat clicked as he swallowed. “I must be the silliest man for a hundred miles, but I can't help but believe you. You know I love you ardently, don't you?” Josiah seemed unwilling to wait for a response, because he pulled Arthur in to lay against his chest and glanced kisses over his brow.

“Come treasure huntin' with me tomorrow?” Arthur asked. _Treasure hunting is hardly a pastime for a gentleman_ , was what Arthur expected Josiah to say. Or perhaps, _I'm hardly qualified, dear boy._ But Josiah trailed his fingers over Arthur's cheek.

“If I'm done with you by tomorrow, certainly,” Josiah promised, and his nails dug crescent moons into Arthur's jaw until he was coaxed closer for a kiss.


End file.
